Long Gone Day
by fishbulb000
Summary: Faye is till trying to cope with the loss of a Bebop comrade...
1. Bad Luck at the Casino

**Bad Luck at the Casino **

    The casino's garish surroundings and overzealous patrons were beginning to give Faye Valentine a raging headache. A headache sprinkled with feelings of jealousy over the fact that everyone around her was having a magnificent old time raking in their winnings. She'd been haunting the slots, blackjack table, and roulette wheel for hours trying her luck, but there was nothing for her to cheer about. She cursed to herself for forgetting to bring her "tricks of the trade" along, but then realized that everyone would catch on to her cheating in a matter of seconds. The Eyes in the Sky and the goons on the ground were much too dominant these days and watched over their casino with a feverish dedication. Time to call it a night. She figured her meager winnings could afford a couple of drinks at the bar and maybe a new outfit, but that was it until the next bounty head. 

Faye ambled over to the casino's bar, but stopped just outside of its entrance. She knew her drinking was becoming more frequent and heavier than she was used to, but drowning her sorrows in a bottle was simply her way of coping. Booze helped her cope with Spike's death and the void it left in her heart. The void she thought would never heal after her emergence from half a century of cryogenic sleep-- no recollection of her past. She reminisced for a moment, outside the bar, about the day her memories finally returned. Sadly, nothing worthwhile came from them. 

That void did start to heal, but it was gradual. Faye realized that she had finally found her place in this world and it was on board the Bebop, living the life of a bounty hunter, with this peculiar collection of individuals. She even grew to think of them as family: the father-figure, the brotherly lunkhead, the kid and even the dog. Everyone she held dear in the past were gone. Now, she had stability and something akin to a family. She was happy.

Then came that dark day, five months ago, when she once again experienced loss. The new family , her family, was shattered forever. The mended void returned to its hollowed and abysmal state the minute Spike walked out that door. She should have shot him when she had the chance.

_Nothing could have stopped him from going that night--not even multiple gunshot wounds. That's why my bullets are in the ceiling… _

Faye was jolted out of her thoughts when a drunk patron stumbled into her as he exited the bar.

    "Oh, excuse me, ma'am!" he slurred heavily while leering at Faye from head to toe. 

    "Mmmm, care for some company, gorgeous?" he then inquired with a smarmy grin on his face. 

Revolt oozing from every pore, she would have pistol-whipped him silly had it not been for the wave of weariness and gloom washing over her. 

He took the hint when he glanced at her face and wobbled away, preparing to sink his claws into another attractive young woman nearby. 

Faye had enough of the casino atmosphere for tonight. 

She would skip the bar and go home to bed. Besides, sleep was looking much better to her than booze at this moment. She fumbled around in her red jacket for a lighter as she brought a fresh cigarette to her lips. 


	2. Home Sweet Bebop

Home Sweet Bebop 

    Back on the Bebop, the makeshift living room was dark and empty. Faye's own clattering down the metal stairs and the monotonous swishing of the ceiling fan seemed greatly amplified in the stillness. Out of routine, she expected Ed to come bounding out of nowhere, Ein in tow, and greet her with an earsplitting "Faye-Faye!" 

Silence…. Ed was back on Earth, hopefully still with her father. She was one of the fortunate ones.

Faye didn't bother turning on any lights as she maneuvered her way around the bulky yellow couch and to her own room.

    "Faye, I saved you some dinner…it's on the stove!" Jet bellowed from down the hall. He was tending his bonsais in the room that housed the collection. 

    "No thanks….I'm going to bed," She murmured while approaching the room. 

    "Suit yourself.." He curtly replied. 

    "He takes such damn offense when no one wants his cooking," She thought with a languid smile. 

She loitered for a few moments on the door jam, watching as he skillfully pruned an unruly branch from the tree, then slipped away.

Ever since that awful day, she had passed by Spike's room quickly, not even raising an eyebrow until she was in the comfort of her own. She was hurt, angry and just wanted to forget everything that had transpired. Now, she had stopped in her tracks outside his door. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't scour out this memory.

She had never been in his room before, never had a reason to, but questions started to swirl in her mind. What did he leave behind? Did he hold on to keepsakes? Would she find out more about his past? Before she could query anymore, she had already turned the knob and crossed the threshold. 

The room was decidedly bare, not like the bedlam of her own with its assortment of clothes, makeup products, and old fashion magazines strewn about. 

Wandering farther in, she started feeling the frostiness of a dead person's sanctuary on her exposed arms and instinctively crossed them over her chest. Her eyes glanced to the left wall and observed that the closet door was ajar. She sidled over and peaked inside before pulling it to. Nothing, except two wire hangers and numerous cobwebs. 

Faye sighed and turned her attention to a petite, three drawer dresser that neighbored the bed on the right wall. She sat softly on the edge of the unmade mass and pulled open the top drawer. It contained an empty black picture frame, one of Spike's Jerichos' (Faye knew he owned three… and that he took the missing two with him that night), and an unopened pack of cigarettes. 

The empty picture frame. 

Faye realized right away what _that_ previously held. She could visualize it placed on top of the dresser, protecting the captured memory of a young woman with flowing blond hair, piercing blue eyes and an angelic smile. Greeting and enticing all who gazed upon it. She could imagine Spike removing the picture that night and placing it in his jacket pocket next to a depleted pack of cigarettes, but more importantly, close to his heart. He would join his fallen angel very soon…

The remaining drawers offered nothing except more cobwebs and personal meetings with the spiders who called them home. 

Standing up to leave, she returned the frame and decided to take the Jericho and pack of cigs with her. She reasoned that this weapon should not spend its time in a drawer, but be put to good use….and cigarettes? Hell, there was always a need for cigarettes. Two questions had answers…

Faye stared up at the ceiling as she relaxed in her bed, one hand positioned between the back of her skull and the lumpy pillow. The other wrapped around the Jericho, gleefully pointing it in various directions with her finger on the trigger. She was intrigued by how much heavier it felt than her Glock. 

She may have told herself that taking this weapon was simply to add to her arsenal, but it was more than that. The Jericho symbolized a memory of Spike that she could touch with her hands, like someone's picture or piece of jewelry. 

    "That can't be done with memories stuck in the brain," she remarked to herself while placing the gun on the night table. 

Yawning deeply, she closed her eyes and surrendered to a captivating slumber.


	3. Winter On Mars

**Winter On Mars**

Faye shivered as she pulled the blanket up around her neck. An icy draft blew in from under the door and prevented her from settling back into sleep. Didn't matter. She'd slept too long anyway. Stepping groggily out of bed, she stretched her arms overhead and strolled to the shower.

Jet would get an earful if there was no hot water.

The warm shower seemed to snap her out of her bleary state and she felt refreshed when dressing. She was curious about today's bounty and roamed around looking for Jet. She looked out the windows of the Bebop's control room and noticed they were docked on Mars. The city was blanketed with snow.

_Where was he, dammit?_

Checking the kitchen, she discovered a yellow piece of paper held to the refridgerator by an exceptionally tacky magnet:

"_Faye,_

_ Meeting Bob for some information on a bounty. _

_ No breakfast since we are out of food, you will have to fend for yourself. _

_I'll grocery shop before I come home._

_Thought you might like to know this:_

_89th Street Cemetery _

_Row M_

_Jet_"

Faye stood there, clutching the note in her hands, and committed the last part of it to memory. She discarded it on the way to fish her parka from the hallway closet. There was something else she also remembered to get.

Redtail zooming over the city, she was briefly amused by the sights of the people below. Motorists were slipping and sliding all over the roads, children were having snowball fights with each other, and everyone was bundled up tightly. She had heard somewhere that winters were rare on Mars. Probably from Spike…

"There it is," she muttered, bringing the Redtail down in a vacant lot across the street.

A high stone wall stood around the cemetery. It's entrance a small, arched gate, wrought from black iron with bars that were straight from top to bottom.

Faye pushed the creaky gate open and crunched in the snow to her destination. The wind picked up as she trudged along, taking her breath away and adding to the level of frigidness in the air. It seemed like she had been walking down that winding path for an eternity until she spotted the sign indicating row M.

She had a gut feeling which plot was his and didn't bother to read names as she passed headstones . A single red rose adorned the top of this particular stone, making it stand very much out from the rest. The vivacious red clashing with the monochromatic scheme of winter time. She felt as if she were floating closer to this headstone, like in a dream.

_ No, this was definitely a nightmare…_

She stared at the stone for the longest time when she arrived. Just two lines of writing neatly chiseled into smooth gray stone. "Spike Spiegel 2044-2071". The finality of it was just so jarring to her.

She doubted there was a funeral service, it just wasn't Spike's style….and who brought this rose? Maybe a friend or family member? She figured that it could have been anyone…she knew nothing about this man..

Sighing deeply, she watched the air escape from her mouth as a puffy cloud.

"I would have come sooner, but I didn't really know where you were," she said apologetically.

"I brought you something though," she added quietly with a sad smile, digging around in her coat pocket.

She placed the unopened pack of cigarettes on the bottom ledge of the headstone and removed a stick from her own crumpled pack.

"One last time, lunkhead" she whispered. The lighter's flame flickering around in her cupped hand.

A gentle snow started to fall..


End file.
